Page 111 of 'Tis the season of Wicked Deeds

“That’s it.”

He repeats the powerful motion, shaking my breasts violently.

“Choke my fat cock.”

I’m used like a rag doll, bouncing on him. His eyes are glued to my chest, lips pulled back over his teeth as he pounds me raw. Incapable of speech, I can only make keening and moaning noises.

“Oh God!” I cry.

“Aww,” he tsks. “Are you hurting, slut? You begged for everything.” Spitting on my cheek, he yanks me down and painfully bites my nipple, growling against it. “This is everything.”

The pleasurable pain evolves into something addictive and marvelous.

Desperate to come under his wicked assault, I inch my palm between our slick bodies and reach for my clit. He seizes it at the last second, twisting both my arms behind my back.

“Did I not warn you?” His tone is lethally scary.

“I wasn’t going to come,” I whisper, finding it difficult to focus with him swelling deep inside my walls. It’s like I’m trapped in every direction.

Mind.

Body.

Soul.

Imprisoning my wrists with one hand, he inches the other to the destination I was secretly aiming for. His thumb presses down hard on my little nub, and I shiver. No rough thrusts rock my limbs as he puts his entire focus on toying with my pussy. Flicking and circling so perfectly, it’s not long before an acute sensation sneaks up on me.

I open my mouth but he cuts me off.

“Don’t. Come.”

Tears of frustration slide down my cheeks as he slows down. His cock remains seated deep in my back hole. It’s a miracle I’m in one piece.

Like a deviant man, his thumb begins to play with my clit again. As if I’m not tortured enough, two fingers thrust into my pussy and tap against my G-spot. I shudder wildly on his lap, attempting to twist to no avail.

“King!”

“Fight it,” he warns, low and threatening.

“I can’t. Let me come. Once. Please.”

“I love it when you beg, but no.”

“Then please move.” I buck on his girth, my head collapsing on his chest.

“Why?” A cocky smile can be heard in his voice. “Is it hurting?”

“Stopp t-tormenting me.”

A pinch to my clit and I almost come but somehow manage to hold it. “Are you going to listen?”

I nod as he denies my body what it desperately needs again. I don’t know how much more I can take before it’s out of my control.

He edges me a third time, playing with my pussy like a silent maestro.

“Good girl,” he praises when I dare not orgasm. Lifting my head with a fist in my hair, he commands, “Ride me. Make us both come.”

The order is music to my ears and insatiable body.

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